After the Protests: Who Can Lead Iran?

The December 2025 uprising in Iran has reignited fundamental questions about the future of Iranian governance and the viability of the Islamic Republic. Following the June 2025 Israel-Iran War, which severely degraded the regime’s military capabilities and shattered its aura of invincibility, Iran stands at a historic inflection point. The question is no longer whether change will come, but who will lead it and what form it will take.

This report provides a comprehensive assessment of the Iranian opposition ecosystem, profiling the key figures, factions, and coalitions that could shape Iran’s post-Islamic Republic future. It examines the structural dynamics that have historically fragmented opposition efforts, analyzes the lessons of democratic transitions from comparable cases in Libya, Iraq, and Eastern Europe, and presents a framework for understanding the pathways forward.

The central finding is that Iran’s opposition, while deeply fragmented, possesses the breadth and depth necessary to govern a post-transition Iran—provided it can overcome the coordination failures that have plagued previous efforts. The collapse of the 2023 Mahsa Charter coalition offers critical lessons. Ideological purity tests, personality conflicts, and the inside-outside divide have consistently undermined unity. Success will require a fundamentally different approach.

This report proposes a National Reconciliation Council (NRC) framework—a broad-based interim governance structure comprising 28 members drawn from all major opposition currents: monarchists, republicans, reformists, ethnic groups , civil society leaders, and representatives of internal resistance movements. The NRC model draws on successful transitional frameworks while avoiding the catastrophic mistakes of Libya and Iraq.

The opposition possesses figures of genuine stature. Crown Prince Reza Pahlavi commands the highest international profile and has evolved toward a referendum-based approach that creates space for monarchist-republican cooperation. Mir-Hossein Mousavi and Mehdi Karroubi, under house arrest since 2011, retain national recognition and legitimacy from the Green Movement. Shirin Ebadi and Narges Mohammadi, both awarded the Nobel Peace Prize hold international stature, while Narges Mohammadi, battling cancer, embodies the courage of internal resistance. Kurdish, Baluch, Azeri, and Arab leaders represent the 40 percent of Iran’s population that belongs to ethnic groups—constituencies whose inclusion is essential for any legitimate transition.

The comparative analysis in this report reveals critical lessons. Libya’s descent into militia chaos demonstrates what happens when weak institutions meet armed fragmentation without inclusive political frameworks. Iraq’s de-Baathification disaster shows how sweeping purges can fuel rather than prevent instability, turning excluded groups into insurgents. Eastern Europe’s velvet revolutions offer more hopeful precedents, but their success depended on organized civil society, collapsed regime legitimacy, and sustained external support—conditions Iran is approaching but has not yet achieved.

The policy options available to the United States and its allies range from enhanced containment through active support for civil resistance to recognition of a provisional government and, in the most decisive formulation, an integrated strategy combining political preparation with military degradation of regime capabilities. The choice among these options will shape whether the current moment of opportunity produces genuine transition or another cycle of repression and disappointment.

Understanding who can lead Iran requires mapping the complex ecosystem of opposition forces that have emerged, evolved, and often fractured over the 45 years of Islamic Republic rule. The opposition is not a unified movement but a constellation of actors with distinct ideologies, constituencies, and visions for Iran’s future. Their fragmentation has been their greatest weakness. Properly structured, it could become their greatest strength.

Iranian opposition to the Islamic Republic has evolved through distinct phases, each shaping the current landscape. The first wave, spanning 1979 to 1988, saw violent suppression of leftist, liberal, and monarchist opposition in the immediate post-revolutionary period. The Iran-Iraq War consolidated regime power while decimating organized opposition, particularly the Mojahedin-e Khalq, whose alliance with Saddam Hussein permanently discredited the organization among most Iranians. This first generation of opposition was largely destroyed or driven into an exile from which it never effectively organized.

The second wave emerged between 1997 and 2005 with the Reform Movement under President Mohammad Khatami. Reformists attempted change from within, mobilizing a generation of activists who believed the system could be reformed through gradual pressure and electoral participation. The movement’s ultimate failure—blocked at every turn by the Guardian Council and Supreme Leader—created lasting disillusionment with reformism. Yet it also trained a generation of professional journalist-activists and a cadre of civil society organizers who would prove essential in later mobilizations.

The third wave crested in 2009 with the Green Movement following the disputed presidential election. Millions took to the streets under the leadership of Mir-Hossein Mousavi and Mehdi Karroubi, chanting “Where is my vote?” in what became the largest protests since the revolution itself. Brutal suppression followed, including the death of Neda Agha-Soltan, whose tragic killing was captured on video and broadcast worldwide. While Karroubi was released just last year under tight supervision, he and Mousavi remained under house arrest since 2011.Their lengthy detention serves as testament to the regime’s fear of their symbolic power.

The fourth wave arrived between 2017 and 2019, marking a decisive shift in the character of the opposition. Economic protests in December 2017 and January 2018 spread from Mashhad across the country, driven not by middle-class reformists but by working-class Iranians crushed by corruption and economic mismanagement. The November 2019 uprising, triggered by fuel price increases, was met with the deadliest crackdown since 1988—estimates suggest 1,500 killed in a matter of days. Crucially, protesters moved beyond reformist demands to explicitly challenge the regime’s legitimacy. Slogans like “Death to the Dictator” and attacks on regime symbols signaled a break with gradualism.

The fifth wave began in September 2022 with the “Woman, Life, Freedom” movement following death of a young Kurd, Mahsa Jina Amini’s death Amini, while in custody of the morality police for not properly wearing her Hijab. This uprising represented the most sustained challenge to the regime since 1979, uniquely uniting women’s rights activism, ethnic minority grievances, and youth alienation into a coherent challenge to theocratic rule. The most recent uprising in December 2025, following the regime’s humiliation in the June 2025 Israel-Iran war, has brought this wave to what may prove a decisive tipping point.

The contemporary Iranian opposition can be understood through four distinct but overlapping operational spheres, each with unique capabilities, limitations, and potential roles in a transition.

Centered on Crown Prince Reza Pahlavi and recently institutionalized through the Iran Prosperity Project, this sphere represents the most visible international face of the opposition. The Constitutionalist Bloc advocates for a secular, democratic Iran with the ultimate governance structure—monarchy versus republic—to be determined by national referendum. This deferred approach to the fundamental constitutional question has presented the clearest definition of Pahlavi’s political vision.

The bloc commands visible organizational capacity, including substantial media presence, established networks among the Iranian diaspora, and cultivated relationships with Western policymakers. Its connections to internal networks have grown since 2022, though they remain much less developed than those of some other opposition currents. The strategic approach emphasizes Western pressure on the regime combined with support for civil resistance, seeking to position Pahlavi as a unifying figure above factional disputes rather than as the leader of one faction among many.

The limitations are equally significant. For non-royalists the historical baggage of the Pahlavi dynasty weighs heavily on the Crown Prince despite his emphasis of being his own man.To some, he is perceived as an out-of-touch diaspora figure who has not lived in Iran for over 45 years. Republicans and leftists view constitutional monarchy as window dressing for restoration, while ethnic groups harbor deep suspicion regarding the Pahlavi tradition of Persian centralism.

This sphere encompasses republican-oriented parties, labor organizations, and civil society networks committed to secular democratic governance without any monarchical element. Among others, the Hamgami (Solidarity) alliance represents recent attempts at coordination among these groups. Their ideological foundation rests on separation of religion and state, social democratic or liberal democratic economic orientation, and human rights as a foundational principle rather than mere aspiration. The Shoraye Gozar (Iran Transition Council) is another coalition group, representing a diverse coalition of seasoned political and ethnic leaders committed to a pluralistic solution for Iran.

The secular democrats command strong intellectual and academic networks, connections to European social democratic parties and institutions, and significant presence among diaspora professionals. Their growing ties to the labor movement inside Iran represent perhaps their most important organizational development, connecting external political leadership to internal capacity for economic disruption.

The approach of this sphere emphasizes grassroots organizing and civil society strengthening over top-down leadership or external intervention. Skepticism toward military options runs deep, as does wariness of allowing any single figure to dominate opposition coordination at the exclusion of others. The limitations mirror these strengths: fragmentation across multiple small parties, historical conflicts between socialist and liberal factions dating to the pre-revolutionary period, and limited name recognition inside Iran compared to the Pahlavi brand.

Representing approximately 40 percent of Iran’s population, ethnic minority movements constitute an essential but often marginalized component of the opposition. This sphere includes Kurdish, Baluch, Azeri, Arab, Turkmen, and other ethnic organizations united by demands for recognition, autonomy, and equitable treatment within—or, in some cases, independent from—the Iranian state.

The ideological range within this sphere is considerable. Most organizations advocate federalism within a democratic Iran, seeking constitutional recognition of minority languages and cultures, regional autonomy, and fair distribution of economic resources. Some, particularly among the Kurds and Arabs, maintain independence as an ultimate aspiration even while accepting federalism as a practical near-term objective. The common thread is rejection of Persian centralism, whether expressed through the Islamic Republic or through Persian nationalist opposition currents.

Organizational capacity varies significantly by group. Kurdish parties—particularly the Democratic Party of Iranian Kurdistan and Komala—have long organizational histories and armed wings maintained in Iraqi Kurdistan. The Baluch movement has demonstrated remarkable mobilization capacity, as the September 2022 Zahedan protests and subsequent “Bloody Fridays” illustrated. The Azeri movement, representing Iran’s largest minority, is organizationally diffuse despite the size of its potential constituency. Arab organizations maintain active networks in Khuzestan despite severe repression.

The Congress of Nationalities for a Federal Iran represents an important coordinating mechanism, bringing together ethnic movements to articulate common demands and negotiate collectively with Persian-dominated opposition currents. The federalist sphere’s participation in any transition framework cannot be ignored: no government of Iran can claim legitimacy while excluding 40 percent of the population.

Perhaps the most critical sphere, internal resistance networks operate under severe constraints inside Iran but possess unique legitimacy and mobilization capacity that external opposition simply cannot match. This sphere includes labor syndicates such as the Coordinating Council of Iranian Teachers’ Trade Associations and the Haft Tappeh sugar workers, student organizations maintaining operations despite constant repression, women’s rights activists who sparked the Woman Life Freedom movement, and professional associations among physicians, engineers, and other educated groups.

The ideological orientation of internal resistance tends toward pragmatism focused on specific grievances—workers’ rights, women’s freedom, educational access—rather than comprehensive political programs. What unites these diverse actors is rejection of the Islamic Republic and demonstrated willingness to act despite enormous personal risk. The organizational capacity they have demonstrated is remarkable: labor unions have conducted sustained nationwide strikes, student networks have maintained communication despite intelligence service penetration, and informal neighborhood networks proved crucial in coordinating the 2022-2023 protests.

The strategic approach of internal actors necessarily differs from that of the diaspora. Operating under direct regime surveillance, internal organizers focus on building power through collective action while maintaining operational security. They are generally cautious about explicit alignment with external opposition figures, both for security reasons and because they sometimes view diaspora leadership as disconnected from on-the-ground realities. The tension between inside and outside represents one of the opposition’s most significant structural challenges.

Understanding why previous coalition efforts have failed requires examining the structural fault lines that divide the opposition. These are not merely tactical disagreements but fundamental tensions rooted in different visions of what Iran should become.

The most visible divide separates those who favor restoration of a constitutional monarchy under the Pahlavi dynasty from those committed to a republican form of government. Reza Pahlavi’s proposal to resolve this through post-transition referendum offers a potential bridge, allowing monarchists and republicans to cooperate in ending the Islamic Republic while deferring the ultimate constitutional question to the Iranian people. Yet deep suspicions remain on both sides. Republicans fear that monarchist resources, international profile, and organizational capacity will dominate any coalition, producing a transition that creates fait accompli advantages for restoration. Monarchists worry that republicans will use coalition structures to sideline the Crown Prince and then renege on referendum commitments once the Islamic Republic falls.

Perhaps more fundamental than the monarchy question is the centralist-federalist divide, which reflects competing visions of Iranian national identity itself. Persian nationalists, including many monarchists and some secular republicans, emphasize Iran’s territorial integrity and resist any dilution of central authority that might empower separatist tendencies. They point to Iran’s millennia-long history as a unified state and warn that federalism represents the first step toward partition. Ethnic minority representatives counter that genuine democracy requires decentralization and constitutional protections for minority languages and cultures—that Persian centralism, whether monarchist or republican, simply replicates the Islamic Republic’s approach to ethnic diversity. This divide contributed significantly to the collapse of the Mahsa Charter coalition (known as the Georgetown coalition) in 2023 and remains the opposition’s deepest structural fault line.

The physical separation between diaspora opposition figures and activists operating inside Iran creates practical and psychological divisions that no coalition structure has fully bridged. Those inside face daily repression and risk—imprisonment, torture, execution—while watching diaspora figures give interviews and attend conferences in safety. The resentment this generates is human and understandable. At the same time, diaspora activists possess resources and freedom to organize that internal actors simply cannot match, making external coordination essential for any serious transition effort. Bridging this divide requires intentional structures that elevate internal voices and ensure that any transitional framework reflects the priorities of those who have paid the highest prices for opposition.

Although the reform movement within the Islamic Republic has been largely discredited by its failures, some figures who began as reformists retain undeniable legitimacy precisely because the regime has punished them for evolving beyond reformism. Mir-Hossein Mousavi served as Prime Minister during some of the Islamic Republic’s darkest years, yet his continued house arrest and unequivocal statements calling for referendum on the entire system have rehabilitated his standing among many who once viewed him as a regime loyalist. Similarly, Mostafa Tajzadeh’s journey from Deputy Interior Minister to explicit regime opponent currently imprisoned in Evin represents an even more dramatic evolution. The question of how to incorporate such figures—whose early careers served the Islamic Republic but whose later trajectories demonstrated genuine commitment to change—remains contested within the opposition.

Any serious discussion of Iranian opposition must address the Mojahedin-e Khalq, if only to explain why this organization—despite its visibility in Washington and European capitals—cannot play a constructive role in Iranian transition. The MEK’s troubled history, its betrayal of Iran during wartime, its cult-like internal structure, and its complete lack of domestic legitimacy render it not merely unhelpful but actively toxic to any coalition seeking to represent the Iranian people.

The organization emerged in the 1960s as an ideological hybrid, fusing Islamist theology with Marxist revolutionary theory in ways that satisfied neither tradition. Its founders sought to challenge both the Shah’s regime and the traditional clergy, positioning themselves as a third way that would combine religious authenticity with social revolution. This ideological confusion has never resolved itself; the MEK has cycled through various self-presentations without ever developing a coherent political philosophy beyond opposition to whoever currently holds power in Tehran.

The MEK participated enthusiastically in the 1979 revolution and initially supported the Islamic Republic, expecting to share power with Khomeini’s clerical faction. When that partnership soured—as it inevitably would given the MEK’s ambitions and the clergy’s determination to monopolize power—the organization turned to armed struggle. Bombings and assassinations followed, including attacks that killed senior regime officials. The Islamic Republic responded with massive repression, executing thousands of MEK members and supporters in the prison massacres of 1988. This history of violent confrontation with the regime might seem to credential the MEK as serious opponents of theocratic rule. What happened next destroyed any such claim.

When Saddam Hussein invaded Iran in 1980, beginning eight years of brutal warfare that killed hundreds of thousands of Iranians, the MEK made a choice that no amount of subsequent rebranding can erase. The organization relocated to Iraq, accepted Saddam’s patronage, established military bases on Iraqi soil, and actively collaborated with the invading army against their own countrymen. MEK fighters participated in operations against Iranian forces. They provided intelligence to Iraqi military planners. They broadcast propaganda designed to demoralize Iranian soldiers defending their homeland. When the war ended in 1988, MEK forces launched an invasion of Iran from Iraqi territory—Operation Mersad—that Iranian defenders crushed with heavy MEK casualties.

For Iranians who lived through the Iran-Iraq War—which is to say, for every Iranian over the age of 40—the MEK’s collaboration with Saddam Hussein represents an unforgivable betrayal. The war is remembered as a national trauma comparable to the Great Patriotic War in Russian memory or the World Wars in European consciousness. Families across Iran lost sons and fathers. Cities were bombed. Chemical weapons were used against Iranian troops and civilians alike. That the MEK chose this moment to ally with the invader, to provide material assistance to the enemy, to participate in military operations against Iranian forces—this is not a detail that propaganda can obscure or time can heal. The MEK did not merely oppose the Islamic Republic; they sided with a foreign dictator waging aggressive war against the Iranian nation.

This betrayal explains why the MEK enjoys essentially zero support inside Iran. Polling is impossible under Islamic Republic conditions, but every credible assessment of Iranian public opinion reaches the same conclusion: the MEK is despised. Opposition activists inside Iran—the labor organizers, student movements, women’s rights advocates, and ethnic minority representatives profiled elsewhere in this report—unanimously reject any association with the organization. When diaspora figures like Reza Pahlavi or Hamed Esmaeilion convene opposition gatherings, they exclude the MEK not because of ideological differences but because inclusion would discredit the entire enterprise in Iranian eyes.

The organization’s internal structure reinforces these concerns. Under the leadership of Massoud and Maryam Rajavi, the MEK has evolved into something resembling a cult more than a political movement. Members at the organization’s Albanian compound—where they relocated after the Iraq War rendered their Iraqi bases untenable—reportedly live under conditions of extreme control, with limited contact with the outside world, mandatory divorce and celibacy requirements, and intense ideological programming. Defectors describe an environment of psychological manipulation and coercion that bears little resemblance to democratic political organizing. The Rajavis demand absolute loyalty and brook no internal dissent; members who question leadership decisions face punishment and ostracism.

This cult-like structure produces the MEK’s characteristic political behavior: elaborate set-piece events designed to impress Western audiences rather than mobilize Iranian constituencies. The organization excels at renting convention centers, busing in crowds, and securing paid appearances by former Western officials who lend their names to MEK gatherings in exchange for substantial speaking fees. Lists of such officials—former governors, generals, cabinet secretaries, and members of Congress—are impressive until one investigates how the relationships were cultivated. The MEK has spent lavishly on Washington lobbying and public relations, successfully removing itself from the U.S. State Department’s list of Foreign Terrorist Organizations in 2012 despite its history of violence. What it has not done is build any meaningful connection to Iranians who might actually participate in transition.

The intelligence the MEK has provided over the years illustrates both its capabilities and limitations. The organization does maintain networks that have occasionally produced valuable information, most notably the 2002 revelation of Iran’s secret nuclear facilities at Natanz and Arak. This intelligence coup demonstrated that the MEK retains some capacity for gathering information inside Iran. Yet the same episode reveals the organization’s fundamental problem: it can spy on the regime but cannot mobilize against it. The networks that produced the nuclear intelligence have never translated into political organization, protest capacity, or any visible support base within Iranian society. The MEK can tell Western governments what the regime is doing; it cannot threaten the regime’s hold on power.

Including the MEK in any transitional framework would be not merely ineffective but actively counterproductive. Any coalition associated with the organization would be immediately discredited among the Iranian audiences whose support is essential for transition. The regime’s propaganda—which routinely smears all opposition as MEK affiliates or Western puppets—would gain credibility it currently lacks. Legitimate opposition figures, from Reza Pahlavi to Kurdish leaders to internal activists, would face a choice between association with traitors or withdrawal from the coalition. The coalition would fracture before it could form.

The MEK’s Washington presence creates a persistent distortion in American policy debates. Because the organization has money to spend on lobbying and access to purchase through speaking fees, its voice is amplified beyond any relationship to actual influence or legitimacy. Policymakers who encounter MEK representatives at conferences or in congressional testimony may come away with the impression that here is a serious opposition force deserving support. The impression is false. The MEK is a legacy organization sustained by its own resources and the determination of its aging leadership, not a living political movement with roots in Iranian society.

For American policy, the implication is clear: the MEK should be neither supported nor included in transition planning. Resources devoted to the organization are resources wasted. Legitimacy extended to MEK-associated initiatives is legitimacy squandered. The path to Iranian transition runs through the labor unions organizing strikes despite regime repression, the student networks maintaining communication despite surveillance, the ethnic minority movements demanding recognition, the women removing their headscarves in defiance of morality police, and the diaspora figures working to coordinate these currents into coherent opposition. It does not run through an Albanian compound where an aging cult awaits a restoration that Iranians themselves would never accept.

The MEK’s tragedy is real—thousands of its members died in the 1988 massacres, and the survivors have spent decades in exile. But tragedy does not confer legitimacy, and suffering does not erase the choice to side with Saddam Hussein against Iran. Until the last Iranian who remembers the war is gone, the MEK will remain what it became in the 1980s: a symbol of betrayal that no Iranian transition can afford to rehabilitate.

This section profiles the individuals most likely to play significant roles in any transition scenario. These are not the only consequential figures in the Iranian opposition, but they represent the range of backgrounds, orientations, and constituencies that any viable transitional framework must accommodate.

Born in Tehran in 1960, Reza Pahlavi is the eldest son of Mohammad Reza Shah Pahlavi, the last Shah of Iran. He was educated in the United States and trained as a fighter pilot, skills he never had occasion to use after the revolution forced his family into permanent exile. Since 1979 he has primarily lived in the United States, where over the decades he has unveiled several projects like the Mihan Foundation, the National Council of Iran for Fair Elections, Project Qoqnous of Iran, National Union for Democratic Iran, and most recently the Iran Prosperity Project.

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Pahlavi functions as the de facto leader of the monarchist and constitutionalist opposition, maintaining the highest international profile of any opposition figure. His political vision has evolved considerably over the decades. Where he once advocated straightforwardly for monarchical restoration, then evolutionary change, he now emphasizes that the governance structure of a post-Islamic Republic Iran should be determined by national referendum, with constitutional monarchy and secular republic as the two legitimate options. He has explicitly stated that he does not seek a political role for himself, or to impose monarchy and would accept a republican outcome from a fair vote.

His strengths are considerable. Pahlavi commands the highest name recognition among Iranians both inside and outside the country. For older generations, he represents the pre-revolutionary Iran they remember or imagine. His access to international media and policymakers exceeds that of any other opposition figure, and he has demonstrated willingness to work with diverse opposition elements despite the suspicions many harbor toward him. The Pahlavi name carries weight that no amount of organizing by lesser-known figures can replicate.

The limitations are equally significant. To non-royalists, his association with his father’s regime weighs equally on the very same Pahlavi brand that up to 32 percent (Gamaan Poll 2024) fully support inside Iran. He is perceived by republicans and leftists as fundamentally committed to restoration regardless of his referendum rhetoric. Ethnic groups view the Pahlavi tradition of Persian nationalism with deep suspicion, remembering that all previous shahs—Qajar and Pahlavi alike—actively suppressed minority languages and cultures. Most fundamentally, he has not lived in Iran for over 45 years, raising questions about his understanding of the country he hopes to lead.

In any coalition framework, Pahlavi could serve as a symbolic unifying figure or titular head of an interim authority, particularly if he continues to emphasize his referendum commitment and reaches genuine accommodation with ethnic minority concerns. His participation in any coalition significantly increases its international visibility and standing with Western governments, making his inclusion strategically valuable even for those who harbor reservations about his ultimate objectives.

Born in 1942 in Khameneh, East Azerbaijan, Mir-Hossein Mousavi trained as an architect before entering politics. He served as prime minister of Iran from 1981 to 1989, steering the country through the devastating Iran-Iraq War. His candidacy in the 2009 presidential election, and the disputed results that gave victory to Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, triggered the Green Movement—the largest protests Iran had seen since the revolution.

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Mousavi, along with his wife Zahra Rahnavard, has been under house arrest since February 2011, with only limited ability to communicate publicly. Periodic statements have been released through family members and associates, revealing a political evolution far beyond his reformist origins. A 2019 statement called for a referendum on the system itself and acknowledged the blood of innocents shed by the regime—language that placed him firmly outside the boundaries of acceptable discourse within the Islamic Republic.

The strengths Mousavi brings are unique. His legitimacy from Green Movement leadership and his subsequent sacrifice of freedom for over 14 years give him moral standing that no diaspora figure can match. He is known simply as “Mir-Hossein” to millions who chanted his name in the streets of Tehran in 2009. His deep knowledge of the regime’s internal workings, gained from years at the highest levels of power, would prove invaluable in any transition. His Azeri heritage appeals to ethnic minority constituencies often alienated by Persian nationalist opposition figures.

Yet, his limitations cannot be ignored. Mousavi served the Islamic Republic loyally for decades, including as prime minister during the 1988 prison massacres that killed thousands of political prisoners. His age—83—and health after years of house arrest remain uncertain. His detention limits active participation in organizing, and some hardline oppositionists reject any role for former regime figures regardless of their subsequent evolution. Yet if released, or if the regime collapses, Mousavi could play a crucial role legitimizing transition among those who supported the Green Movement but remain skeptical of external opposition.

Born in 1956, Mostafa Tajzadeh served as deputy interior minister under President Khatami and emerged as a key figure in the reform movement. His repeated imprisonments for political activities—including an eight-year sentence handed down in 2021—trace his evolution from regime insider to explicit opponent. He remains imprisoned in Evin Prison, continuing to issue statements through intermediaries that have become increasingly radical in their rejection of the Islamic Republic.

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Tajzadeh’s 2021 platform, released before his latest imprisonment, called for separation of religion and state, direct election of all officials, and freedom for all political prisoners. This represents the most radical evolution among former regime figures, a complete repudiation of the system he once served. His willingness to acknowledge reformism’s failures—to admit that the system cannot be reformed from within—distinguishes him from those who cling to gradualist illusions.

His strengths combine insider knowledge with demonstrated commitment to fundamental change. He articulates the case for democratic transition with a clarity born of having tried and failed to achieve change through the system. That he currently pays a personal price for his convictions—sitting in Evin while lesser figures give interviews from comfortable exile—enhances his legitimacy enormously. His limitations include his past role in the regime, his imprisonment limiting active participation, and lesser international name recognition compared to Mousavi or Pahlavi.

The inclusion of ethnic minority leadership in any transition framework is not optional. Forty percent of Iran’s population belongs to non-Persian ethnic groups, and no government of Iran can claim legitimacy while excluding or subordinating them. The following profiles represent key figures from Iran’s major minority communities.

Mustafa Hijri, born in 1948, serves as secretary general of the Democratic Party of Iranian Kurdistan (KDPI), the oldest Kurdish political party in Iran. Founded in 1945, the KDPI has maintained continuous existence despite decades of repression, including the assassination of previous leaders by Iranian intelligence. Operating from Iraqi Kurdistan, Hijri has participated in opposition unity efforts while maintaining the specific demands of the Kurdish movement: federalism within a democratic Iran, constitutional recognition of Kurdish language and cultural rights, and accountability for regime violence against Kurds, including the use of chemical weapons in the 1980s.

Abdullah Mohtadi, born in 1946, leads Komala, the Kurdistan Organization of the Communist Party of Iran. Where the KDPI represents nationalist Kurdish politics, Komala represents the secular left. Yet, both organizations have found common ground in advocating for federalism and minority rights. Mohtadi has worked consistently to bridge the Kurdish-Persian opposition divide, participating in Mahsa Charter negotiations and articulating Kurdish demands in terms accessible to Persian audiences. His presence in any coalition signals that federalism is not a fringe demand but a mainstream position among the Kurdish political leadership.

Maulana Abdolhamid Ismaeelzahi, born in 1947, serves as Friday prayer imam of Zahedan and has emerged as the most influential Sunni cleric in Iran. His position is unique among opposition figures: he remains in Iran, operating under direct regime surveillance, yet has used his Friday sermons to criticize regime violence with remarkable boldness. Following the September 2022 massacre known as “Bloody Friday,” when security forces killed worshippers leaving his mosque, Maulana Abdolhamid’s denunciations reached millions through recordings distributed on social media.

He walks a careful line between advocating for Baluch rights and avoiding explicit calls for regime change that would invite immediate arrest. This caution frustrates some activists but reflects the realities of operating inside Iran rather than from safe diaspora positions. His demands center on ending religious discrimination against Sunnis, economic development of the impoverished Sistan-Baluchestan province, accountability for extrajudicial killings, and recognition of Baluch cultural identity. That he remains in Iran, sharing the risks his community faces, gives him legitimacy that no exiled leader can match.

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Born in 1972, Narges Mohammadi trained as a physicist before dedicating her life to human rights activism. She serves as vice president of the Defenders of Human Rights Center founded by Shirin Ebadi and has been arrested and imprisoned repeatedly since 2011, with total sentences exceeding 30 years. The Nobel Committee awarded her the Peace Prize in October 2023 while she remained imprisoned in Evin, recognizing her fight against the oppression of women in Iran and her efforts to promote human rights and freedom for all.

Mohammadi continues to organize even from prison, smuggling out statements and coordinating protests among female inmates. Her demands include abolition of the death penalty, end to compulsory hijab, and release of all political prisoners. She embodies the courage of internal resistance in its purest form—not theorizing about opposition from comfortable exile but paying daily costs for her convictions. Any legitimate transitional structure must either include Mohammadi directly or clearly reflect her human rights priorities. Her moral authority is unmatched among current activists.

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Born in 1947, Shirin Ebadi served as one of Iran’s first female judges before the revolution stripped women of judicial positions. She subsequently worked as a lawyer defending political prisoners, women’s rights activists, and children, founding the Defenders of Human Rights Center. The Nobel Committee awarded her the Peace Prize in 2003—the first Iranian and first Muslim woman to receive the honor.

Ebadi has lived in exile since 2009, primarily in the United Kingdom, continuing her advocacy and writing. The regime confiscated her Nobel medal and froze her assets in retaliation. From exile, she has navigated between opposition factions while maintaining independence, criticized both the regime and some opposition figures, and provided the international community with reliable analysis of human rights conditions. Her legal expertise would prove directly relevant to transitional justice planning, and her status as elder stateswoman of the Iranian human rights movement positions her as a potential mediating figure among opposition currents.

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Born in 1963, Nasrin Sotoudeh has practiced human rights law at enormous personal cost, defending political prisoners, women’s rights activists, and juveniles facing the death penalty. International recognition has followed: the Sakharov Prize, the PEN/Barbara Goldsmith Freedom to Write Award, and numerous other honors. So has regime punishment: her 2019 sentence totaled 38 years in prison and 148 lashes.

Sotoudeh has conducted hunger strikes protesting prison conditions and the treatment of fellow inmates. Her expertise in defending political prisoners makes her directly relevant to transitional justice planning—she knows from long experience who has been detained, under what charges, and with what treatment. Her inclusion in any transitional framework would signal commitment to legal process and human rights as foundational principles of the new order.

Understanding pathways to successful—and failed—transitions requires examining comparable cases objectively to discern what they can and cannot teach. Libya, Iraq, and the Eastern European transitions of 1989 offer lessons directly applicable to Iran, though each case differs in crucial respects.

Libya’s descent into militia chaos and state failure following the 2011 overthrow of Muammar Qadhafi offers critical warnings for any Iranian transition. The revolution succeeded militarily—NATO air power combined with rebel ground forces to topple a dictator who had ruled for 42 years. What followed was catastrophe.

The fundamental problem was weak state institutions. Qadhafi had deliberately prevented institutional development to maintain personal control, governing through patronage networks and revolutionary committees rather than professional bureaucracy. When he fell, there were no functioning state structures to which power could be transfered. Academic research confirms that against the backdrop of weak state institutions and strong tribal identities, Libya descended into civil war with multiple governments claiming legitimacy as militias carved the country into competing fiefdoms.

The revolutionary militias that had defeated Qadhafi’s forces refused integration into national security structures. Each brigade retained its weapons, territory, and local loyalties. Efforts to build a unified national army failed as militias proved more capable of providing security—and extracting resources—than the nominal central government. The resulting security vacuum enabled the Islamic State to establish its most significant presence outside Syria and Iraq.

No consensus-building process emerged to manage these tensions. Unlike Tunisia’s inclusive national dialogue, which brought Islamists and secularists together to negotiate a constitutional framework, Libya lacked mechanisms for negotiating power-sharing among revolutionary factions. Winner-take-all dynamics dominated, with each faction seeking to maximize its position rather than compromise for collective stability. International engagement ended with Qadhafi’s death; Western powers that had intervened to enable his overthrow largely withdrew, leaving Libyans without the sustained support that aided Eastern European transitions.

The lessons for Iran are clear. Unlike Libya, Iran possesses functioning state institutions—bureaucracy, judiciary, military structures—that could potentially be preserved through a transition. Avoiding Libya’s fate requires maintaining institutional continuity even as leadership changes. The Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps and Basij present challenges analogous to Libya’s militias, but Iran’s conventional military structures could provide a professional core for post-transition security forces if properly managed. Most critically, international engagement must extend beyond any military phase to support governance transition, with commitments secured before rather than after regime change.

Iraq’s post-2003 experience demonstrates how exclusionary transitional measures can fuel rather than prevent instability. The Coalition Provisional Authority’s approach to the Ba’ath Party created a template for how not to handle regime transition—lessons that remain directly relevant to planning for post-Islamic Republic Iran.

CPA Order Number One, issued in May 2003, dissolved the Ba’ath Party and barred members from public service. The scope was breathtaking: approximately 300,000 former party members were expelled from government, military, and state-owned enterprises. This included not only senior officials genuinely complicit in Saddam’s crimes, but teachers, doctors, engineers, and administrators who joined the party not from ideological commitment but because party membership was required for employment in their fields. The Iraqi state was gutted of the professionals needed to operate it.

Because Ba’ath Party membership had concentrated among Sunni Arabs—reflecting the demographic composition of Saddam’s power base rather than any inherent Sunni affinity for Ba’athism—de-Baathification was perceived as an anti-Sunni policy. Scholarship on the period confirms that for Sunnis, the de-Baathification policy appeared to have the goals of depriving Sunnis of politics, power, and influence. The excluded found common cause with insurgents. Former military officers provided tactical expertise that made the Sunni insurgency far more effective than any would have been possible for an untrained resistance.

The consequences cascaded. Mass dismissals left government ministries without experienced administrators capable of delivering basic services. Security forces lacked trained officers capable of maintaining order. The insurgency that emerged drew heavily on excluded Ba’athists, eventually evolving into the Islamic State of Iraq—forerunner of ISIS. Iraq’s National Reconciliation policy, adopted after the 2006 civil war brought the country to the brink of partition, attempted to reverse de-Baathification’s worst effects. But the damage had been done: communities that might have supported transition had been pushed into armed opposition.

For Iran, the lessons directly apply. The Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps presents analogous challenges to Iraq’s Ba’ath Party. An estimated 125,000 IRGC members and their families cannot simply be excluded from post-transition society without creating a massive pool of alienated, trained, organized potential insurgents. Distinguishing between regime leadership genuinely responsible for crimes and lower-level officials whose compliance was required for employment should guide any transitional justice process. Blanket purges are counterproductive; vetting processes should focus on individual accountability for specific crimes rather than membership in organizations.

The 1989 transitions in Poland, Czechoslovakia, Hungary, and Romania offer more hopeful models than Middle Eastern cases, though their applicability to Iran requires careful analysis of what made them possible.

Poland’s transition was the most gradual, built on nearly a decade of organizing by the Solidarity trade union following the 1980 Gdańsk shipyard strikes. The pattern established precedents: sustained civil resistance despite martial law repression, eventual round-table negotiations between regime and opposition, initially partial electoral opening that nonetheless produced a Solidarity landslide, and peaceful transfer of power to a non-communist prime minister. Research on the Polish case emphasizes that opposition activities accelerated as the regime’s capacity to suppress them declined, leading to negotiations only when continued repression appeared costlier than compromise.

Czechoslovakia’s Velvet Revolution compressed what took Poland years into weeks. Police violence against a student demonstration in November 1989 triggered massive daily protests—with hundreds of thousands filling Wenceslas Square—that pushed the communist regime aside. The Civic Forum led by dissident playwright Václav Havel emerged rapidly as the negotiating partner, and within weeks communist leadership resigned. The key difference from Poland was not the underlying dynamics but the timing: by November 1989, Soviet willingness to use force had clearly ended, emboldening protesters and demoralizing security forces.

Several factors enabled these transitions that Iran only partially shares. Organized civil society existed in both countries—Solidarity in Poland, and the Charter 77 dissident network in Czechoslovakia—providing infrastructure for rapid mobilization and negotiation. Iran’s labor unions and student networks represent potential analogous associations, but they operate under far more severe repression than the late communist regimes imposed. Regime legitimacy had collapsed in Eastern Europe; security forces were unwilling to conduct large-scale massacres to preserve governments they no longer believed in. The Islamic Republic retains committed supporters willing to kill for its survival, as repeated crackdowns have demonstrated.

The external anchor provided by the prospects for membership in the European Community created powerful incentives for democratic consolidation in Eastern Europe. Countries knew that meeting democratic criteria would bring economic integration and security guarantees. Iran lacks an equivalent anchor, but Western security commitments and economic integration could serve analogous functions if clearly linked to democratic transition. The lustration versus amnesty balance that Eastern European countries navigated—Czechoslovakia adopted relatively strict vetting while Poland took a more limited approach—offers models for handling former regime officials that avoid Iraq-style blanket purges while addressing specific abuses.

Drawing on the preceding analysis, this section outlines a proposed framework for opposition coordination and interim governance. The National Reconciliation Council model attempts to learn from both successful and failed transitions while addressing the specific dynamics of Iranian politics.

Five core principles, derived from comparative analysis and the specific characteristics of the Iranian opposition, should guide any transitional framework.

The first principle is inclusive representation. All major political currents, ethnic communities, and civil society sectors must find place within the structure. Research on ethnic autonomy arrangements confirms that inclusion of ethnic groups has a strongly conflict-reducing effect. No significant constituency should feel excluded from the transition process, because excluded groups become potential spoilers with grievances to nurse and capacity to disrupt.

The second principle is deferred fundamental decisions. Contentious questions—monarchy versus republic, federal structure versus unitary state, extent of regional autonomy—should be deferred to a post-transition constitutional process rather than resolved within the interim framework. The body’s mandate is managing the transition and creating conditions for fair constitutional deliberation, not determining the permanent constitutional order. Attempting to resolve these questions before transition will paralyze coalition formation; deferring them preserves unity while maintaining legitimacy to address them later.

The third principle is institutional continuity. Following lessons from Libya and Iraq, any transition should preserve functional state institutions while replacing regime leadership. The goal is not state collapse but state transformation. Ministries should continue functioning, essential services should remain operational, and professional civil servants should retain their positions unless individually culpable for specific crimes. Avoiding the chaos that enables militia proliferation and humanitarian catastrophe requires maintaining the state even while changing those who control it.

The fourth principle is balanced transitional justice. The interim framework must address regime crimes without replicating de-Baathification’s blanket purges. This requires distinguishing senior leadership responsible for policy decisions from lower-level officials who implemented orders, and emphasizing truth-telling and selective prosecution over mass exclusion. Documentation of abuses should begin immediately to enable later accountability while avoiding immediate purges that create destabilizing grievances.

The fifth principle is international partnership. Sustained international support—economic assistance, security cooperation, diplomatic recognition—should be secured in advance and conditioned on inclusive governance and respect for human rights. Commitments should be specific and binding, not vague promises that evaporate when attention shifts elsewhere. The international community’s abandonment of Libya after Qadhafi’s fall demonstrates the costs of engagement that ends with regime removal rather than continuing through transition.

The proposed 28-member National Reconciliation Council would be composed to reflect the diversity of Iranian society while maintaining a functional size for deliberation and decision-making.

Political factions would hold eight seats, divided among monarchists and constitutionalists, republicans and democrats, reformists who have broken with the regime, and civil society bridge figures. This representation acknowledges that political diversity exists within the opposition and that any legitimate transition must accommodate multiple visions of Iran’s future.

Ethnic groups would hold eight seats, distributed equally among Kurds, Baluch, Azeris, and Arabs. This representation reflects the approximately 40 percent of Iran’s population belonging to non-Persian ethnic groups and ensures that minority concerns cannot be overridden by Persian majority voting. Equal representation despite different population sizes reflects the principle that all ethnic communities have equal stake in the transition regardless of numbers.

Civil society would hold six seats, representing human rights defenders, women’s rights activists, legal professionals, and cultural figures. These voices bring moral authority and specific expertise essential for transition planning, from transitional justice to constitutional design.

Internal resistance would hold four seats, reserved for representatives of labor organizations, student movements, and professional syndicates operating inside Iran. These seats acknowledge that those who have borne the costs of resistance deserve a voice in shaping its outcome, and that any transition disconnected from internal realities will fail.

Religious modernizers would hold two seats, representing those who seek separation of religion and state while respecting Iran’s spiritual traditions. This representation acknowledges that transition cannot mean hostility to religion, only to theocratic government.

The political faction seats would include Reza Pahlavi representing the constitutionalist current, Mir-Hossein Mousavi and Mehdi Karroubi representing the Green Movement and reform current, Mostafa Tajzadeh representing democratic republicans who have broken definitively with the regime, Mohsen Sazegara as a former regime insider turned democracy advocate, and additional figures representing secular democratic and liberal currents. The specific names matter less than ensuring coverage of major political tendencies.

The ethnic communities seats would include Mustafa Hijri and Abdullah Mohtadi representing Kurdish political organizations, Maulana Abdolhamid Ismaeelzahi and a representative of Baluch political organizations, and key representatives of Azeri and Arab civil society and political leaders to ensure all ethnic communities have equitable and direct representation.

The civil society seats would include Narges Mohammadi, Shirin Ebadi, and Nasrin Sotoudeh representing human rights and legal expertise, along with cultural figures and women’swomen’s rights activists. The internal resistance seats would be designated by labor organizations, student networks, and professional associations operating inside Iran rather than appointed by diaspora leadership—ensuring authentic representation of those who bear the daily costs of opposition.

The preceding analysis establishes that viable opposition leadership exists and that frameworks for coordination are conceptually possible. The question that remains is what policy choices by the United States and its allies might enable transition. The options span a spectrum from continued containment to integrated strategies combining political preparation with decisive military action.

The most conservative option maintains the current sanctions regime while increasing pressure on regime finances and human rights abusers. No explicit commitment to regime change would be made. Support for civil society would remain limited to humanitarian and informational assistance—satellite internet access, broadcast media, documentation of abuses—without providing material support for organized opposition.

This approach offers lower risk of unintended consequences and maintains flexibility to adjust as circumstances evolve. It avoids the accusations of foreign interference that the regime uses to delegitimize opposition. Yet it does not address the fundamental threat posed by a regime that has demonstrated its willingness to conduct mass violence against its own population, attack regional neighbors through proxies and direct action, and pursue nuclear weapons capability. It allows the regime time to adapt and repress the opposition while signaling to democratic forces that the United States is unwilling to commit to their success.

A more forward-leaning approach would expand information warfare through enhanced satellite internet access, broadcast media, and support for circumvention technologies that allow Iranians to communicate despite regime censorship. Financial and technical support would flow to civil society organizations with the capacity to organize. Contact would be established with internal resistance networks to understand their needs and capabilities. The United States would explicitly endorse the right of the Iranian people to determine their own government, signaling that regime change is not an American imposition but an Iranian aspiration.

This approach builds capacity of indigenous opposition while maintaining Iranian agency in the transition process. It costs far less than military options and has precedent in the support provided to Eastern European dissidents during the Cold War. The timeline remains uncertain, however, and the regime may successfully repress civil resistance if its security forces remain willing to conduct mass violence. Supporting internal networks also risks exposing contacts to regime retaliation if security is compromised.

The United States could facilitate formation of a National Reconciliation Council or similar body, provide diplomatic recognition as the legitimate representative of the Iranian people, redirect frozen Iranian assets to the provisional government, and coordinate an international recognition campaign among allies. This would create an alternative pole of legitimacy against which the Islamic Republic’s claims to represent Iran could be measured.

Recognition signals irreversible American commitment to transition, provides resources for opposition organizing, and has historical precedent in recognition of resistance movements from the Free French to more recent cases. The risks are significant: recognition may be premature if opposition unity proves fragile, could create a government-in-exile disconnected from internal realities, and will certainly trigger intensified regime repression against anyone associated with the recognized body. Timing is everything—recognition that precedes demonstrated opposition viability may discredit rather than empower.

The most decisive option involves targeted strikes on IRGC facilities, nuclear infrastructure, and regime leadership. The objective would not be full-scale invasion and occupation—the Iraq model definitively discredited that approach—but degradation of the regime’s repressive capacity sufficient to create space for internal uprising. Strikes would be coordinated with opposition political preparation to maximize the window of opportunity.

This approach directly reduces the regime’s ability to crush opposition through mass violence and shatters the aura of invincibility that helps maintain obedience among the security forces and population alike. The June 2025 war demonstrated what Israeli strikes could accomplish; an American campaign would be far more comprehensive. Yet the risks are equally significant: regional escalation, potential nationalist backlash that benefits the regime, uncertain control over post-strike dynamics, humanitarian consequences of disrupting an already stressed economy, and international opposition, particularly from European allies. Military action creates opportunity but cannot guarantee how that opportunity will be used.

The most comprehensive option combines elements of the preceding approaches into a coherent whole. Political preparation would precede and accompany any military action: the United States would support opposition unification, provide recognition and resources to an NRC-type body, coordinate military degradation with political transition planning, and commit to sustained post-transition support. The goal would be regime change with a legitimate successor already in place, avoiding both the Libyan scenario of a power vacuum and the Iraqi scenario of imposed occupation.

This approach addresses multiple dimensions simultaneously, with military action creating conditions that political preparation can exploit. The complexity is substantial—the most demanding option to execute, requiring significant political will, resources, and sustained commitment over years rather than months. If any component fails, the integrated strategy may produce worse outcomes than more limited approaches. Yet if successful, it offers the most complete resolution of the Iranian challenge: a democratic Iran at peace with its neighbors and its own people.

The question posed by this report—who can lead Iran after the protests?—does not admit a simple answer. No single figure commands universal allegiance; no organization has demonstrated capacity to govern; no faction can claim to represent the full diversity of Iranian society. The opposition is fragmented, contentious, and marked by decades of accumulated grievances among its constituent parts.

Yet this fragmentation, properly understood, is not weakness but potential strength. Iran’s opposition encompasses the full spectrum of Iranian society: ethnic and linguistic diversity, religious and secular perspectives, generational experiences from those who remember the Shah to those born under the Islamic Republic, internal and external vantage points. This breadth means that an inclusive transitional framework can plausibly claim to represent the Iranian nation in a way that no single leader or faction could.

The National Reconciliation Council model proposed here attempts to harness this diversity while learning from transitions that succeeded and those that catastrophically failed. Its essential features—inclusive representation, deferred fundamental decisions, institutional continuity, balanced transitional justice, and international partnership—derive from both comparative analysis and the specific dynamics of Iranian politics. The 28 members would not agree on everything; they are not meant to. They are meant to provide legitimate representation for constituencies that must be included if a transition is to produce stability rather than new conflict.

The figures profiled in this report possess the experience, legitimacy, and in many cases the courage demonstrated through personal sacrifice necessary for the task. Reza Pahlavi commands the highest international profile and has evolved toward positions that create space for cooperation. Mir-Hossein Mousavi and Narges Mohammadi retain enormous legitimacy from their suffering for Iranian freedom. Kurdish, Baluch, Azeri, and Arab leaders represent communities that have never been offered genuine partnership in Iranian governance but whose participation is essential for any legitimate successor. Labor organizers and student activists have demonstrated mobilization capacity that ultimately determines whether political frameworks translate into street power.

What they have historically lacked is the coordinating framework and external support to transform individual efforts into collective action. The December 2025 uprising, building on the seismic shift caused by the June 2025 war, has created a window of opportunity that may not remain open indefinitely. The regime is weakened but not incapacitated. The opposition is energized but not unified. The international community is attentive but not committed.

History suggests that such moments require decisive action. The Solidarity movement waited nine years from its founding to Poland’s democratic transition; the Velvet Revolution compressed change into weeks. What determined the different timescales was not the strength of opposition alone but the willingness of external powers to support change and the readiness of regime defenders to accept that their cause was lost. Iran’s path will be its own. But whether that path leads to genuine democratic transition or another cycle of repression and disappointment depends significantly on choices made now—by the opposition forces that must find unity, by the international community that must provide support, and ultimately by those inside Iran who will bear the costs of resistance regardless of what outsiders decide.

The answer to who can lead Iran is, ultimately, Iranians themselves. But Iranians organized in structures that reflect their diversity, supported by an international community committed to their success, and guided by the hard lessons of other nations’ transitions. This report has attempted to map that path. Walking it remains the work ahead.